Glimmer
by Rhiime
Summary: Glasses don’t seem to be on Roark’s favorite things’ list. Little-Roark/Byron, not slashed.


Glimmer

**Poke'mon DP**: Byron and Roark (as father and son love).  
**Rated K**: No swearing  
As usual, no beta-checks, so please excuse the mistakes.

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"Is it weird that I wear glasses?"

Byron blinked a few times at his son as he finished pulling the blanket over his small body. Roark's eyes looked at him curiously as he waited for an answer, his vision blurred by the lack of the subject he was asking about; thin cut glasses that were lying on the table next to his bed that glimmered from the light.

"I don't think it's weird." Byron said, reaching over to check if the window opposite of where he was sitting was closed and not letting in extra light from the street lamps. "Why?"

"Not a lot of people wear glasses," Roark looked up to the ceiling for a second before looking back to his father. "And even more kids don't wear them."

"You need them to see, Roark." His father responded. He wasn't really sure why Roark had a stigmatism; neither he nor his (ex)-wife had a vision problem. They both had almost perfect vision, if you got into it, so it was probably farther down the family tree than suspected.

"Does it bother you?" Roark asked, his head lowering to hide his nose underneath the blanket, making his speech barely audible. By the expression Byron had, he guessed he had asked something silly.

"Why would it bother me if you're wearing something you need?" Byron smiled wryly at his son. "That's like saying it bothers me when you wear a coat and its freezing."

"That's not the same," he replied stubbornly, but squeaked when Byron gripped at his stomach through the covers, making him squirm and giggle.

"Yes it is. And, no, it doesn't bother me." Byron said.

"Only old people wear glasses, though."

Byron raised an eyebrow to Roark, who in turn furrowed his eyebrows at him with his "theoretical" answer. He sighed heavily, thinking of something just as logical (he was right, in a way.)

"Boy, so you're saying you would rather go around running into things, then?" Byron asked gruffly, leaning in to proclaim his answer. Roark pouted from behind the covers, pushing them off then sitting up a little to copy his father.

"No!" Roark exclaimed, earning a stern look from Byron. He slumped down a little in apology, averting his eyes while a frown formed on his face which Byron couldn't help but accept.

"I just think it's strange," Roark started, whispering. "That I'm the only kid who wears glasses..."

"And?" Byron asked. "Did someone tell you it's weird?"

Byron had always been all over the things that involved Roark and his actions, including what happened during his time playing with other kids. He wasn't over-protective, though sometimes he worried too much about what the kid did at times that weren't the smartest, but he did take in his record to understand what Roark was feeling most of the day. Just because he was now a single parent didn't mean he pushed all of that away.

"No," He looked back up to Byron, his eyes now glassy, "but does that make me different?"

He stared at Roark for a few seconds, trying to understand where he was going for. Slowly, Byron leaned down and kissed his son on the neck, which he knew he didn't like before he shaved since his beard pricked his skin; he didn't feel Roark squirm right then.

"Not at all, and don't let people tell you otherwise." Byron said, grinning into the boy's neck. "You're prefect the way you are, boy, no matter what people say. So you shouldn't be worrying about why you wear glasses. You know that."

Roark shivered, but a smile appeared on his face when Byron ruffled his hair. He asked shyly, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure." Byron said. He placed his large hands on Roark's shoulders and pushed him back down into the bed. Roark wiggled underneath the blanket into a comfortable position, smiling from the way Byron ran his hands over his arms. "Now, go to sleep. I'm starting to think you're just stalling."

"'Am not." But Roark yawned squeakily, which made Byron laugh; his laugh always made Roark feel safe and sure.

"Boy, don't start." Byron couldn't help but smirk when spoke. He gave Roark one more kiss on his forehead before standing up from the bed and walking over to the door. He glanced back to his now nodding off son then flipped off the light with a single hard stroke.

Right when Byron stepped out of the room, Roark called him back.

"Daddy, I love you." Roark said in the dark, his voice low from sleep. Byron turned his head back a little then smiled to himself.

"'Love you too, Roarkie."

---

Letting his hand trail off the closing door and leaving a small opening, Byron walked quietly into his own room. He switched off the hallway light before turning off his own light, in which he gratefully accepted the darkness.

Sighing, Byron sat down on his bed and stared into the window, which was letting a small amount of moon-light and a glimmer from the mine's constant energy fires. He let his eyes adjusted to the dark and then lay down.

Yeah, he thought as he put his hands behind his head, that boy is something else.

He closed his eyes and let his mind wander. His mouth formed a satisfied smile before fully falling asleep.

But there wasn't anything that could make him regret having him as _his _son.

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**A/N**: Degenerating everyone's ages is my specialty. This one's for the kids. ;3


End file.
